“Come on,” I whispered, gritting my teeth as I tugged again.
With a sudden snap, the clasp gave way. I stumbled slightly, nearly dropping the box, but managed to steady it on my knees. The lid creaked open.
Inside, everything was carefully arranged. A folded letter sat on top, yellowed slightly at the edges but clearly protected from the damp soil. Beneath it was a stack of official-looking documents held together with a ribbon.
The second I saw the handwriting on the envelope, I knew.
Grandma.
Tears welled in my eyes as I gently unfolded the letter, my hands trembling.
A close-up of a woman reading a letter | Source: Pexels
“Sweetheart,” it began, “if you’re reading this, then you did as I asked. You moved my roses. I knew you would.”
I bit my lip, blinking hard as the words blurred.
“I want you to know how much I love you, and how proud I am. I left my will with the lawyer, but knowing your aunt, I decided to make sure nothing could be twisted. Enclosed you will find a signed copy of my will, along with this letter bearing my signature. This house belongs to you and your mother. I hope, by now, your mom and aunt have reconciled, and that you’re both living happily in the home I worked so hard to keep. But if not — if things turned ugly — then here is everything you’ll need to prove the truth.”
A close-up shot of a woman writing a letter | Source: Pexels
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